


Funeral

by BiancaMae



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canon Compliant, Connor's funeral, Death, Funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaMae/pseuds/BiancaMae
Summary: Small work about what Evan sees in the casket at Connor's funeral.





	

Evan had never seen a dead body. His mother had seen bodies, plenty of them. It was part of her job. But Evan had never seen a real one, not even when they ran footage of mass casualties in war zones or after terrorist attacks on the news.

But now there was a body in front of him, Connor Murphy's body.

The sounds of the funeral parlour behind him were blocked out, and all he could hear was the blood moving in his veins. But how could he hear his blood? How could his blood even be circulating if his heart wasn't beating, which it surely wasn't, because there seemed to be no oxygen left in the room.

He inhaled. His heart was still beating, there was still oxygen. He was still alive. It was the person in front of him who wasn't.

Evan looked down at Connor Murphy - Connor 'Printer Kid' Murphy who could never shake that reputation, Connor Murphy who stole library books because he didn't want people knowing how much he enjoyed reading, Connor Murphy who set a canvas on fire in Ninth Grade because he didn't like the painting he'd done for class, Connor Murphy who got higher test results then Alana Beck in Chemistry - lying there not alive at all. Lying in the soft white lining of the casket, his head slightly elevated on a small pillow.

They hadn't dressed him in a suit. Mr Murphy was wearing an expensive tailored suit so Evan would have expected Connor to be wearing one as well, but they'd dressed him in something that Evan could maybe - not really, but possibly? -  imagine the alive Connor wearing. He was dressed in black trousers and a dark blue shirt. The two top buttons were undone, exposing his throat that should be moving but wasn't doing anything, because what was the point of a throat if you're not breathing anymore? Evan looked away from Connor's too still throat and up to his face.

Connor looked younger then Evan remembered him looking in years. He was older then Evan, he knew that much because Connor had gotten his drivers permit and somehow had it suspended before Evan had even been old enough to get his. With his hair pulled back from his face and his expression not one of anger, he looked younger then even Evan. Evan wished he looked angry, because maybe then he wouldn't be reminded that Connor was young, and was never going to get any older.

He looked cleaner then Evan had seen him look. Not that he had looked dirty, but there was a nineties grunge feel he had had about him, all black nails and combat boots and notes about homework or song lyrics written on the back of his hands in pen and marker. His nails weren't painted now and his skin was clean of any writing.

 _His skin._ He was so pale. He was pale anyway, but with no flush rising up his neck like it did when he got angry and no red circles around his eyes like when he would show up to class high, he looked more pale then ever.

Zoe wasn't pale. Zoe was brown shoulders and freckles dotted across her face. Connor had a few light freckles across his nose. Evan had never noticed them before. They made him look more like Zoe, joining the two siblings together in Evan's mind. Evan thought Zoe was beautiful. Maybe Connor could have been too.

They'd swept a blush lightly across his cheeks and nose, but the attempt to bring life back to his face was a failure, because Connor would never blush like that so it just looked like he was wearing makeup. Evan felt _himself_ blush. What would he know about Connor blushing? He just assumed Connor would never blush. Maybe Connor blushed when someone complimented his schoolwork or took his hand when he needed help climbing to the highest tree branch. Evan wouldn't know.

Evan was all too aware of his own cheeks and ears flushing bright red now. He could definitely hear his blood. He should stop looking at Connor, but at the same time he didn't want to.

Maybe if he could look at his face long enough, memorise his features and their measurements, map out the lines and marks in his skin, count out his eyelashes and freckles, _maybe_ then he could remember Connor as an actual friend and not just a dead body. But that's what he was now.

Evan held up his hand and rested it on the edge of the casket. He wanted to touch Connor, but his hands were sweaty and he didn't want to touch Connor with them. He wanted so much to wipe the blush from his cheeks, pull his hair out from behind his ears, flip up the collar on his shirt, get him looking at bit like the real Connor.

 _You don't even know the real Connor,_ Evan had to remind himself, dropping his hand and taking a step away.

_You don't and you never will._

His thoughts were almost punctuated by the quiet thud the casket lid made as it was lowered down and the funeral began, Connor gone from Evan forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for how rubbish this is, it had such potential but its coming up to the anniversary of my own friends funeral so I sort of just used this as a way to get out some feelings I still have about it all. Thanks for reading! Now I'm going back to my happy place where Connor never died.


End file.
